


Sick Day

by A_Butter_Churner



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Courf is an angel and we must protect him, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Cute, Delirious Courf, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sort Of, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also cherry tylenol sucks, courferre, edited reupload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Butter_Churner/pseuds/A_Butter_Churner
Summary: NOTE: This is an edited version of a previous work. Hope ya like it!---Courfeyrac has a fever, though he won't admit it. It's up to Combeferre to take care of him.Even if that means... cherry tylenol (shudders)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Get_below_my_line_of_vision](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/gifts).



> If you've already read this, sorry. I edited it a bit and now it's longer and cuter(?)
> 
> I hope you like it! I love writing these two dorks. 
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos or a comment!
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> Message for the giftee: I love you so much, and I really appreciate all of the comments you write on my work. They make me smile so wide :D I know this isn't one of your prompts, but I did want to give this to you <3

Combeferre stared lovingly at his boyfriend who was curled up next to him, eyes closed and a sweet smile playing on his lips. It never ceased to amaze him how Courfeyrac always seemed so joyous and mirthful even when asleep.

His mind began to drift envisioning with gratitude what their life is now that they were dating. Of lazy morning kisses and cuddling late at night. He loved never having to ask for Courfeyrac’s arms around him, enveloping him in a warm embrace. He cherished the ability to lie asleep in their shared bed knowing that he’d wake up next to his favorite person.

The bespectacled revolutionary began to thread his fingers through Courfeyrac’s chestnut curls, sifting through each set of strands with diligence and care. Each lock, a silky tendril of youthfulness and sunshine and everything that was to be treasured about Courfeyrac. The freckled boy beneath him shifted and leaned into his palm with a small sigh. Combeferre smiled, not being able to resist the urge to place a tiny kiss to his boyfriend’s temple, which was suddenly unnaturally hot. No, not just hot, it was practically burning! Combeferre snatched his hand away from his boyfriend’s head, who then groaned a little and leaned his head back into the other’s hand.

“Courf,” Combeferre whispered, shaking his boyfriend lightly. “Courf, baby, wake up.”

“Mmmph.” Came the reply. “Don’t wanna.”

Combeferre shook his head, a smile on his face. “Sweetheart, you have a fever. You just have to stay awake a  _ little bit _ so I can give you some Tylenol.”

“I’m  _ not sick _ and I don’t wanna wake up.” Courfeyrac grumbled.

“But, baby, you have to if you want to feel better.” Combeferre mumbled softly.

“But I’m not sick.”

Combeferre pulled the other boy close to him and kissed the top of his head, burying his face in his boyfriend’s curls. “You’re not sick?”

“Nope.” Courfeyrac hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“Not even a little?” Combeferre prodded still, poking his boyfriend’s chest lightly.

“Nope.”

“Okay then.” Combeferre said nonchalantly. “Because Enjolras asked if I could help him with something down at the Musain, and I was going to say no if you were sick so I could stay here and take care of you. But if you are completely fine…”

“No!” Coufeyrac’s fern-like eyes shot up.

“No what?” Combeferre shifted teasingly, as if he was about to leave.

“No…don’t go.” Courfeyrac tugged at his boyfriend’s sleeve.

“Why shouldn't I? You said it yourself, you aren’t sick.” Combeferre kissed the other boy on his freckle dotted nose.

“But what if I get sick?” Courf whined. He began to feign coughing and continued to pull Combeferre back to the bed. “I think I might be spontaneously coming down with something.”

Combeferre allowed a tiny smirk to dance across his face. “I’m not sure that’s how medicine works. Joly would know. You want me to call him so I can go down to the Musain?”

“No…Ferre.” Courfeyrac buried his face in Combeferre’s collarbone, his warm breath ticking the sensitive skin there. “I want  _ you. _ ”

“Okay, Courf. You have to cooperate though.”

The freckled boy nodded vigorously up and down. “I promise.”

“Okay then. Let me get the Tylenol and I’ll be right back.”

“Fine. Come quick!”

Combeferre chuckled before heading downstairs to the medicine drawer to find the Tylenol. He then heard Courf’s carrying voice from upstairs:

“We have grape flavor, right?”

“Um, no.” Combeferre responded sullenly. “Only cherry.”

“How dare you insult me with cherry-flavored Tylenol? Grape is obviously superior.” The voice carried on.

“What did I just say about cooperating?”

After Combeferre had meticulously measured 10 milliliters of cherry-flavored Tylenol, he traipsed upstairs to where Courfeyrac had pulled all of the blankets over his head and surrounded himself with pillows. The very sight made Combeferre’s heart swell.

“Hey,” he breathed softly. Courf’s eyes opened widely then relaxed as they rested on Combeferre’s figure.

“Hi!” the sick boy grinned brightly, then frowned. “You aren’t going to give me cherry Tylenol, are you?”

Combeferre shook his head. “I have to.”

“TREASON!” Courfeyrac cried, grabbing a pillow and pushing Combeferre away. “Traitor to the crown!”

“We’re all crown-traitors, that’s kind of in the Les Amis job description, babe.”

“No! You have betrayed the Courf Crown! With this… this assassination attempt! You’re trying to poison me!”

Courfeyrac was flailing so much now that he knocked the measuring cup out of Combeferre’s hand letting the pinkish red liquid drip onto the floor.

“Oops.” The freckled boy murmured. “Are you mad at me, Ferre?”

Combeferre shook his head. “How could I be mad at my poor, sick angel?”

Courfeyrac grinned once more and pulled his boyfriend onto the bed. “C’mere!” he whined.

As Combeferre slid into the covers, his sweet sunshine of a boyfriend nestled against him, peppering kisses along his jawline.

“Am I a pain?” Courf asked.

“Only sometimes. And only in the best way possible.”

“M’kay.”

There was silence for a while except for the soft sounds of Courfeyrac’s labored breathing. Then the freckled boy spoke again.

“Hey Ferre?”

“Yes, love?” Combeferre inquired into his boyfriend’s hair.

“Will you ever get tired of me? Like, will you someday not want me anymore?”

Combeferre squeezed his boyfriend tight against his chest. “Who wouldn’t want you? There is not a single parallel universe where I won’t want you. I love you so much.”

“More than your moths?” Courfeyrac mumbled into Combeferre’s chest.

“Now  _ that’s  _ unfair.” There was silence again for a few more minutes. “Yeah, more than my moths.”

“M’kay.” Courf said, snuggling closer to his boyfriend.

“Why did you ask?”

“I dunno. I love you so much, Ferre. And I wanna be with you forever. And ever. And ever, and ever, and ever. I wanna get married and have a house and adopt three kids. I want to dance with you at our wedding. I think about our wedding a lot. You’re going to hold me really close during our first dance, and before that, during the ceremony, I’m going to be itching to kiss you so badly because you will look at me with those big scientist eyes and then I’m going to know that I’ll never ever lose you. Because you’ll say “I do” and you’ll be mine forever. And then you’re going to do the Macarena for me. In front of everyone. Because you love me. As for our kids, I want one girl and two boys. And I want to go on vacations and make a bucket list and then go on this really weird trip where we try to check off all the stuff on our bucket list, but fail miserably. And when I’m old and ugly and not like I am now, I want to know that you’ll still be here.” Courfeyrac didn’t seem to even know that he was mumbling all of this stuff, but Combeferre was shocked.

Not because he didn’t want what Courf was asking for. No, the opposite actually. He wanted to grow old with Courfeyrac. He didn’t want this to ever end.  Even if it meant doing the Macarena in front of all of their friends at their wedding.  He loved his boyfriend so damn much, god. 

“I want that too, you know.” He whispered breathily.

“Oh good. Otherwise I made myself sound like an idiot.”

“You are an idiot, baby.”

“Yeah, I know. But you love me anyway?”

“Of course.”

Then Courfeyrac smiled cheekily and pressed his lips to Combeferre’s, intertwining their fingers. His hands felt like fire laced with Combeferre’s own icy ones, and his lips felt like the sun on his. They stayed like that, kissing slowly and languidly, until they were out of breath.

“Joly would freak out if he knew we just did that.” Courf murmured lazily.

“Oh, definitely. Super unsanitary.” Combeferre agreed, pressing his lips to his boyfriend’s temple and then another to his lips. “Come to think of it, I’ll probably get sick in the next few days because of you.”

“Hmm. That’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Courfeyrac mumbled, smiling against Combeferre’s lips.

Silence.

“I love you, Courf.” Combeferre suddenly blurted.

Courfeyrac looked up at him. “You just told me that like, three minutes ago.”

“We  _ are _ gonna get married, okay?”

“Can we buy a pony, too?” Courfeyrac whispered giddily. Combeferre threw his head back and laughed.

“Anything for you.”

The two of them just lay there, smiling stupidly against one another’s skin, murmuring sweet nothings in each other’s ears and pulling each other closer. Combeferre was mesmerized by the freckles on his boyfriend’s face, tracing them to make constellations and patterns. He would draw one and then whisper to Courfeyrac the story of the shape that was now drawn on his face. He kissed his boyfriend’s cheek with each story. Soon, Combeferre found himself drawing a heart with a line through it.

Courfeyrac gasped. “That was a broken heart. Why?”

Combeferre shook his head. “It’s not broken. It was once, but then it got joined together. See, it’s two hearts, connected to beat as one. Like us. Because the two parts love each other so so much.”

Courfeyrac settled once again into Combeferre’s arms. “M’kay.”

There was silence between them once more.

“Hey ‘Ferre?”

“Yes, babe?”

“What’s your least favorite flavor of Tylenol?”

“Um, Mixed Berry.”

“M’kay.”

“Why’d you ask?”

Combeferre could hear the smirk in his boyfriend’s voice. “You still must be punished for betraying the Courf Crown.”


End file.
